this year has been picking treasured things-
right off of the tree-
and taking bites out of them.
and so the floor is littered with the cores
of those abstract things
that i said i loved so much that
it made the universe stop-
and now my room
is swarmed with flies.
but rest assured-
i've been digging through the rot for the seeds,
and when the clock strikes midnight,
i'm taking my things back.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem